


we ground love in a hopeless place

by AlexSeanchai



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alcohol, F/M, Identity Reveal, Ladynoir | Adrien Agreste as Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng as Ladybug, Morning After, Podfic Welcome, Puns & Word Play, Romantic Angst, Romantic Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-23
Updated: 2020-06-23
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:14:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,891
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24871357
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AlexSeanchai/pseuds/AlexSeanchai
Summary: Last night, Ladybug and Chat Noir wanted to take a moment for a rosy outlook, or at least a rosé outlook. This morning, it's time for Marinette to wake up and smell the coffee.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug
Comments: 28
Kudos: 277





	we ground love in a hopeless place

**Author's Note:**

> Actually not norakwami's fault (for a change), though happily they did beta this. Also now I have a Rihanna earworm.

_Mmm_ , so warm. Cozy, too: the faint scent like her partner's skin, the gentle pressure as of his holding her, the light _thu-thump thu-thump_ reminding her of his heartbeat, as if she'd fallen asleep in Chat Noir's arms. Her mouth felt like a desert and tasted like a swamp, and her head felt like a Roman road, complete with legionaries marching in cadence—but contradictory similes aside, Marinette could get used to waking up like this.

Or, well. Ladybug couldn't.

She had to be dreaming, of course. A _good_ dream, the sort where they promised to marry and fuck and eventually have children and generally be happy together forever, but still a dream. Ladybug had fallen asleep on Chat Noir before, and sometimes he on her, but on rooftops and under bridges and once up a tree—then he'd fallen asleep too and then they'd both had a very rude awakening—and this was unmistakably Marinette's own bed, in which she was—

— _not_ alone?

not alone!—

"Hey, hey, hey, easy, easy," murmured Chat Noir in her ear, gently pinning her flailing limbs. "Just me. Just me."

"Chat Noir!" said Marinette with all the vehemence she could give a whisper. "Why are you—where are your _claws_?" Because that wasn't magic leather against her bare arms.

"I was afraid you'd ask that," he muttered. "I don't know where Plagg and Tikki went. Hopefully not far, if you want my mask back on before you open your eyes…"

"… _your_ mask," Marinette repeated. "Chat—"

Chat Noir rolled off of her, taking Marinette's blanket with him; she squeaked at the cool air. "If you want me to pretend I don't know, then I've never been here before and I've never seen you in my life," he told her, unenthusiastic. "If you want one or both of us to quit—"

She clapped a hand to her mouth to muffle the despairing whine.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. I don't think we have to," he went on, and Marinette would bet he was looking out the skylight as he said it. "Up till the Syren attack, you know you're the only one who told me I couldn't even tell you my name?"

"—Wait, _what_?"

"Master Fù never explained himself." Chat sounded grouchy. "And until then, Plagg was flat out _telling_ me to try to find you out. He was confused when I didn't peek after the Lady Wifi attack, he kept trying to get me to list people I knew were already near attacks you got to really quickly—I didn't know he _couldn't_ tell me your name until after I told him he could tell me himself if it mattered that much to him, but…"

Marinette frowned.

"Anyway, Master Fù doesn't have any say anymore." The mattress moved as Chat shifted his weight, draping the blankets back over her and, she thought, propping himself up on one arm. "Not that I think he really did to begin with, or that he ever should have—I think his stealing Plagg back upset Plagg worse than it did me!"

And she'd _heard_ the brittle tone in Chat Noir's voice through the M. Banana suit. She _knew_ how he loathed being trapped, how he hated going home. Even if—and she doubted this—even _if_ Plagg weren't as treasured a friend to her partner as Tikki was to Marinette, the Feast attack had to have _terrified_ him.

"You don't need to pretend, Chaton," Marinette told him, weary and pained. It wouldn't be the first lie they'd told to protect either of their identities from the other, but—this time he _knew_. Why make him lie about it? "I'm not giving up Tikki, and I'm not losing you. But—"

Chat halted partway through a weight shift that was probably meant to be his hugging her. "But?"

"I know you hadn't stopped loving Ladybug," Marinette made herself say. "You just—stopped trying to romance me. And I don't know why."

"You didn't want a lover," Chat reminded her, lying back down beside her. "You needed a friend."

"True." A friend she could be honest with, anyway. To the extent that Marinette could ever be honest with anyone anymore. "And you said, years ago—you told us you couldn't fall in love with me." Because of Ladybug. But she wasn't going to say that part. "I'm still sorry about that," she added, turning her head so she could open her eyes. "I don't know what I was thinking. And I couldn't tell you none of that was your fault without—"

She stopped.

"Without blowing your own scam," Chat Noir finished. "It's okay, Bug." She could hear his smile. "It would've worked out fine if your father hadn't taken it so personally. Which, I like your brand of weird dad better than mine, don't get me wrong…"

"I think he does it because the one piece of parenting advice Papa ever took to heart is 'ask what your father would do and then do the other thing'." Marinette watched the way her partner's shadow fell on the wall. "Which is a lot better than asking what Grand-père would do and then doing exactly that thing. But that's kind of like saying it's better for a rockslide to strand you up a cliff than inside a cave."

Chat shuddered.

"Sorry," Marinette murmured. "I'm sorry. Just—just, please," she forced herself to say, "tell me you aren't in love with me. And you won't try to be."

"—Marinette?"

He sounded confused. Almost sad.

"Please," she repeated, thinking of the Paris ruled by a lonely ghost, whose heart had only—would only have—still been beating because either he'd hoped so strongly his lady would come for him that he wouldn't try to die, or because he _couldn't_ try to die, no matter how much it hurt to live. " _Please_. This is important."

"…May I hug you?" Chat Noir asked, tentative and sad.

Marinette closed her eyes and threw herself into his arms.

Between the gentle strength of his embrace and the soothing warmth he was rubbing into her back, Chat Noir's arms were a dangerous place to be. "I won't try to fall in love with you," he murmured into her hair. "I promise."

"Good," she lied.

A long sigh. "Time to get back to the daily grind, I guess?"

"Don't wanna." Marinette buried her nose in his shirt. "Some jackass showed up last night with two bottles of wine and poured one of them down my throat, and I am not going anywhere until my head stops hurting."

"Hey, now, you're who brought the Horse Miraculous and challenged me to half the drinking games." He paused. "Where were we, anyway?"

Marinette shrugged one shoulder, then winced: ow. "Italy. My great-grandparents' place." Technically Nonna's, but it was not as though Gina Dupain was going to spy them in an overgrown garden in the Italian Riviera when she herself was in Mexico. "Told you we wouldn't get caught."

"So we weren't even trespassing." He found the taut spot in her offending shoulder. "Words cannot espresso my gratitude."

"…This might be a long shot, but I think you want coffee."

"Water you talking about?"

Marinette tried to muffle her laughter in his shirt and failed: it took three tries before she could say "I guess we'd bitter get up" without her composure cracking before she got to the pun.

"Guess so." Chat didn't try to move. "Am I gonna be in hot water with your parents?"

"What? Why?"

"I'm not sure you noticed, princess, but your father is big, built, and protective. And I can't sneak out the skylight and pretend I was never here, because your mother's already seen us."

"— _What_?"

Fortunately for all concerned, Chat Noir had the foresight to clap a hand over Marinette's mouth.

"Okay, okay, okay," muttered Marinette, "I can handle this, we can deal with this, we _got_ this." But it would definitely help to have a face and name for the ordinary young man her parents knew she'd spent the night with—

Oh. Oh of course.

Oh fuck.

"When you said if I saw your unmasked face, you thought I'd find you irresistible," Marinette told the insufferably smug partner of hers certainly hiding behind Adrien's gentle smile, "you weren't even joking!"

Adrien winced. "Please don't hold that against me. Or anything else like that I might've said before I realized people might like this me for things other than my face and name."

"What, that ugly mug?" Marinette pushed herself halfway upright, scrabbling for her phone: oooh, _pounding_ head, wonderful.

Now that he was getting up, Adrien didn't look so hot either. "Next time we decide in vino destress, let's bring food and water."

"And paracetamol." —Oh, _fuck_ , and everyone was going to assume Marinette's crush that wouldn't die had finally _gotten_ somewhere. Laid, to be specific. Right when she found out that crush absolutely _had_ to die in order to make sure he, she, and the rest of Paris _wouldn't_. "Well, as long as you don't milk it for all it's worth," she decided, feet finally reaching the floor, "I have to say, getting to watch you is one of this job's best perks."

"You're just going to roast me nonstop, aren't you." Marinette smirked up at her partner; he scrubbed one hand over his face. "I regret everything."

"All's fair trade in love and war?"

Adrien gave her a long look.

Oh screw it. "Soooo there might be a few things I haven't been telling you."

He jumped off the loft and took her by the shoulders, fingertips digging in just a little, just like always. "Water," he told her. "Food. Coffee. _Then_ whatever you're afraid will hurt me."

"…How do you always know what's wrong?"

"LB."

Marinette flinched. Then consciously relaxed. "Right. Silly quest—" If he were wearing his cat ears, they would be twitching. "—what's up?"

"Did you have anything planned with Alya today?"

"Not till this afternoon, why? —Oh no it's afternoon and she's downstairs."

Adrien leaned over to flick her mouse, bringing her desktop lock screen to life: "It's afternoon and she's downstairs," he confirmed.

"Great." —Though. Speaking of what to tell whom, she had a phone in hand, complete with Instagram app. "I know there's never-used toothbrushes around here somewhere. You might want to find one."

"Bleh. Yeah. Good idea."

Marinette snapped a photo of him—rumpled black tee and the messy golden back of his head—on his way down through her trap door.

* * *

> **marinettedesigned** : I like my lovers like I like my coffee: hot, strong, sweet, and dark as night. Unfortunately Chat Noir's still head over heels for Ladybug, so I'm settling for second best. (Not that I'm telling you who this is, either. We're worried someone might disa-brew-ve.) 😎🥰
> 
> **alya.ladyblogger** : WAIT WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN
> 
> **marinettedesigned** : Last night? There was wine. Stuff's still percolating.
> 
> **alya.ladyblogger** : In vino, at long last, veritas?
> 
> **marinettedesigned** : Cork it, Alya.
> 
> **adrienagrestebrand** : Wait, I thought you didn't like puns?
> 
> **marinettedesigned** : CORK IT, Adrien!
> 
> **adrienagrestebrand** : Is he about to get mugged if he's not fast enough on the coffee run?
> 
> **marinettedesigned** : Maybe? Probably not. I love him a latte.
> 
> **adrienagrestebrand** : Really? I didn't think he had a roast of a chance with you.
> 
> **marinettedesigned** : If you can't stand the sweet, get out of the kitchen.
> 
> **adrienagrestebrand** : ☕

**Author's Note:**

> [My comment policy](https://alexseanchai.tumblr.com/post/612627045048008704/as-a-fic-writer-i-need-every-reader-to-know): tl;dr happy comments make me happy. So do thinky comments, of course, but there exist jerks who think only thinky comments are worth anyone leaving.
> 
> Find me on [Dreamwidth](https://alexseanchai.dreamwidth.org/) and [Tumblr](https://alexseanchai.tumblr.com/).


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